Priscilla
by hernobleness
Summary: Some days Saber can’t help but think of the sister he left behind in Rigel.


_Saber and Priscilla_

Some days it took seeing red hair or a smile, and some days all it took was seeing Celica at all to bring back Saber's memories of another time.

He knew it wasn't possible that Priscilla, fifteen years later, still looked the way Celica did, but a part of his brain couldn't help – for a single instant – mistaking the priestess for his younger sister, even after all this time. But when his eyes cleared and brain calmed, he saw the more angular jaw, the wider eyes, the taller stature than the one he'd grown up with. He'd recover and move on.

But at night – not often, but often enough – his brain would get caught on that faded but familiar face again, on that name. Priscilla.

Where was she now? Did she still think of him, or had she banished him to the memories she never thought on the moment he'd left her behind with their father?

Was Father still working at the mine? Did Priscilla still wait up for him and worry until he made it home safely? Father would be well into old age by now, but Saber couldn't imagine that walking mass of muscle and pride throwing in the towel at the mines a day before he had to.

Priscilla had to be… thirty-one by now. Surely she was married to someone. A man from the town, no doubt. She'd been in every man's sights since she'd turned fourteen, since Saber had been old enough to turn any eyes black that lingered on her for too long.

He still hoped to the gods that she'd found herself a good husband, not one of the scum from the port who would always care more for the ale and the barmaid than for her. She'd gotten enough of that from her older brother, hadn't she?

He wondered if she still visited their mother's grave every week. By now, she had to be her spitting image. Even before Saber had left, she'd started to look just like her, though the fact that she took up all their mother's responsibilities after she'd died probably fed the image.

Did she cook for her husband now? Did she have to sew up his clothes like she'd sewed Saber's when he got scuffles at the pub? Did she have to tend to his wounds? Did he brush her off like Saber had always done? Gods, he hoped not.

Priscilla had done everything for him… Father too, but Priscilla especially. With Father being the only one working, he had almost always been gone trying to earn as much money as he could to support the family. Someone had needed to put food on the table. Priscilla had been too young to work – only twelve years old – when they'd lost their mother, but she'd taken all the housework onto her shoulders. Saber, well... he hadn't done much to lighten anyone's load.

He'd spent most of his time hiding in the town -- the tavern, the docks, the alleyways, anywhere so that he could be away. When he needed money, he'd pick up his sword and a job here or there, something easy. He'd made his father furious, he'd worried Priscilla half to death staying out late and coming home drunk or injured or smelling of a woman's perfume.

But she had always been there when he'd gotten home, and every night she'd try in her soft voice to speak up and call out to him. She never made it far; Saber never listened, off to bed the minute she was done cleaning whatever new wound he'd brought back with him. He wasn't often in a state to do it himself...

The only time she'd ever broken through to him was the last time.

He couldn't keep doing this, she'd cried when he'd come home with bruises on his face and alcohol on his breath. He was scaring her. He'd changed. She knew he was hurting, but she was too. Why did he push her away? If Mother were there-

He didn't listen any further. That was a sentence he had neither needed nor wanted to hear the end of. Again, as usual, he'd brushed her off and stormed out the door.

But something about his mood after her words had kept him from the tavern, the docks, the alleyways. Anger had had him completely possessed, though in hindsight, it had likely been something more akin to fear he'd been feeling. Priscilla was really beginning to replace their mother...

That day, there'd happened to be a gathering of soldiers rallying for new recruits in town. His brain had been in a fog, and in that moment, it had felt like the soldiers were calling to him to guide him out. Living at a military base, traveling around, leading a life guided by nothing but his sword? After the last four years in his house the life of a soldier sounded just perfect. He realized now that he'd been a bit of a cowardly little runt at that time, trying to run from his father's pressuring him, run from the fact he'd been hurting Priscilla, and from the way his mother's memory felt like it was disappearing. The soldier's life didn't turn out to be as dandy as he'd cracked it up to be, but it had been just the escape he'd needed at the time.

Priscilla had screamed apologies at him when he'd gone back home for a few of his things, using the last few minutes they had together to beg him not to leave her. She'd grabbed onto his bag, his arms, his legs. Before heading out that rickety door for the last time, he'd only allowed himself one glimpse of her face, coated with tears and shaking with sobs as she pleaded with him to forgive her, to stay.

That sight was what kept Saber up when he thought of her at night.

Fifteen years it'd been since he'd seen her… Time had dulled the pain, and he hoped the same went for Priscilla. She was a great girl, and he was sure that wherever she was, she was probably faring just fine. But that didn't stop some guilt from eating away at him every time he saw Celica and was reminded of the poor fifteen year old he'd left behind.

She was his kid sister, no doubt one of the best girls under the sun, and he really had loved her. He still cursed himself for jumping ship and leaving her like that when they'd both already lost someone important to them. Especially since, knowing sweet little 'Scilla, she'd probably been blaming herself all these years.

Celica wasn't his sister, he knew. But sometimes helping her out, seeing her smile and being tricked into seeing Priscilla's was enough to make him feel he was making up for his past wrongdoings.

He hoped for the real Priscilla's sake that she really could still smile like that too.

 **A/N**

 **Should I be working on my other series? Yeah. But these chapters go so quick, and the others go so slow! I need the motivation of actually finishing something :p**

 **More are to come as I finish them. Sonya, Gray, Tobin, Clive and Clair, even Fernand. I got something for everyone (who canonically has siblings).**

 **Sorry for formatting issues if they come up. Publishing from mobile is not the best.**


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